


Just Hit Send Already

by ArsenicInYourPudding



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Tumblr Fic Giveaway 2k13, but whatever it's a thing, for dollyriot on tumblr, idfk man this didn't turn out the way i wanted it to at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:49:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArsenicInYourPudding/pseuds/ArsenicInYourPudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles is (perhaps?) needlessly upset, Derek nearly gets his ass kicked, and someone has extremely poor balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Hit Send Already

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift fic for Dollyriot, AKA Grace (!!!), for my Tumblr Fic Giveaway. You still have time to drop by my askbox on tumblr (rockymthorrorshow) and leave me a prompt if you'd like to get in on the action - deadline has been extended to August 15. Please include your fandom (out of Avengers Movieverse, Young Justice, Beyblade (original only, please), Teen Wolf, or any other fandom you might know me from), your characters of choice (OTP, BroTP, or otherwise), and a general idea of what you'd like (ie. "hurt/comfort, possibly involving a bathtub").
> 
> (And if you happen to hit my askbox on say, the 17th instead of the 15th, I'll probably still let you in on the giveaway. I'm not that much of a hardass about deadlines.)
> 
> ADDITIONAL NOTE FOR TEEN WOLF FANDOM: This is canon-compliant up to...Motel California, I think. I know, I'm bad, I haven't gotten caught up yet. Kindly ignore any glaring inconsistencies with canon that I am as yet unaware of.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. As far as he knew, Stiles was the only reason on earth why a werewolf - an alpha, no less - might have a migraine. “If you would just _listen_ to me, let me get us _out of here_ \--”

Stiles grimaced angrily, taking a stubborn step away from Derek. His sprained knee sent shooting pains up his spine in protest, and Stiles took another step just to be difficult. “See, that’s _hilarious_ , coming from you,” he snapped, trying to reach out for the support of a nearby tree as subtly as possible. If the frustrated sympathy pain that flashed across Derek’s eyebrows was any indicator, he wasn’t nearly as successful as he would have liked. “ _Why_ should I listen to _anything_ you have to say to me anymore? Huh? _Clearly_ you don’t listen to anything we have to say to you, and _trust_ is a two-way street, in case your sociopathic family failed to impart that lesson in your childhood.”

“I _do_ trust you, Stiles,” Derek countered tiredly, like he was sick of having to repeat himself. Stiles bristled.

“ _Bullshit_! You’ve _never_ trusted any of us, even with fucking _basic_ information. Like, okay, was it really that hard to inform us that you weren’t, I dunno, _dead_? Text messages, Derek, are awesome, in that they take so little effort to just type something quick and hit _send_.”

Guilt squeezed at Derek’s chest - he brushed it aside, he had bigger things to worry about. “I wasn’t...really thinking clearly,” he tried to explain anyway. “It didn’t--”

“Didn’t _what_ , Derek? Occur to you that some of us might be going out of our minds with guilt, thinking it was our fault you died? It didn’t occur to you that _your pack_ needed a leader? _Or_ ,” Stiles said, like his train of thought had veered in a sudden and entirely unwelcome direction, “did it just not seem _important_ to let us know? We could flounder around in the dark, you had _bigger_ things to be worrying about than a bunch of stupid teenagers.”

Derek couldn’t keep himself from flinching. “I’m sorry, Stiles,” he said carefully. “None of what I did or didn’t do will ever be excusable, you’re totally right. But would you do me a favor and put the gun down now?”

Stiles glanced at the handgun he’d carried into the woods with him - his dad’s spare sidearm, loaded with wolfsbane bullets from Chris Argent’s secret stash. If he were being honest with himself, the gun made him feel better about interacting with Derek in light of recent disintegration of relations between them. He had no idea if Derek would try to rip his trachea out or when, and it never hurt anyone to be prepared. “Don’t be a baby, it’s not like it’s pointed at _you_.”

“Not _yet_ ,” Derek grumbled. “With how pissed you are at me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did end up shooting me.”

“ _Please_. You’re only worth shooting in self-defence.”

He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and resisted the urge to ignore the gun and carry Stiles out of the woods. The shadows in between the trees were lengthening, and it was getting cold, even for Derek.

“And _anyway_ , it’s not like you even _need_ to be out here, I can get home by myself if you really have _that_ little self-control that you might do something to make me shoot you. You can leave now, please and thank you.”

“You backed into a ravine, fell fifteen feet, and sprained your knee when you saw me. And before that, you were lost, _alone_ , in the _worst_ place to be lost in the whole state because in case you hadn’t been paying attention, there are _alphas_ out here and you smell...”

Stiles huffed angrily when Derek trailed off, distracted. “I smell like _what_? You? Dude, you’re not _around_ enough for me to pick up even the _barest_ \--”

“Stiles!”

In an instant, the gun was up and trained on Derek’s eyes glowing red in the half-light. “I swear to _God_ , if you touch me--”

“Stiles,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice even. “Shut up, I’m trying to listen.”

He glowered, but fell silent and lowered the gun to his side again, index finger tapping nervously above the trigger guard.

The faint howl was getting louder, closer, and it sounded suspiciously like one of the alpha twins. “Stiles, come here, we have to get out of here _now_.”

“Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on,” Stiles argued, folding his arms.

Derek resisted the urge to growl. “The alpha twins are coming up on us fast, just let me carry you back to town--”

“I don’t think so,” Stiles interrupted, but the completely logical fear of being shredded by not one, but two mythical monsters was swiftly eroding his righteous anger over Derek Hale’s dickery. “I can get back without your raging ego, _thanks_.”

“Stiles, come _on_ , we don’t have time to argue about this--”

“So quit arguing with me! I am not a damsel in distress, you furry asshole, and I’m sick of being treated like one! You want to rescue a princess in a tower, go find Lydia, she’s usually game for that kind of thing. High pitched, terrified screaming included at no extra cost.”

Derek took a step forward, and the gun twitched in warning.

“I’m _serious_ , leave me alone. I’ll get out of here myself.”

A pair of red eyes crested the hill behind Stiles, and Derek lunged.

The gun fell to the ground with a muffled thump in the carpet of decaying leaves. “Climb,” Derek commanded, shoving Stiles up against the trunk of the nearest tree. “ _Now_.”

Stiles grabbed the gun out of the dirt and shoved it in the pocket of his hoodie. “I don’t know how he expects me to do this,” he muttered to himself, grabbing for a low-hanging branch. He managed to swing his legs up just in time for Aiden to come rushing underneath him, claws extended for Derek’s neck. Knee throbbing, he pushed himself up higher in the tree, hopefully out of reach.

_At least he listened to me that time_ , Derek thought, sidestepping Aiden’s outstretched claws. “Deucalion can’t come attack me himself,” he taunted, “he had to send one of his _puppies_ to come take me down?”

“Actually, I’m here for Stiles,” Aiden said, terrifyingly cheerful. “You’ll just be a bonus.”

Stiles curled himself tighter in the tree. Some irrational part of him wondered if being able to turn invisible would help his situation.

Derek glanced up into the tree. Aiden’s gaze followed, and he grinned. “Come on down, _Stiles_. Deucalion has a proposal for you.”

“Like hell,” Derek growled, ducking low and tackling Aiden around the waist. Both went down snarling, tearing at each other’s throats.

Stiles gripped the gun in wide-eyed terror, staring down at the fight between the tree’s limbs. Aiden’s claws cut a rough gash across Derek’s collarbone, and Derek roared, stumbling back. _Shit, I have to do something._

He glanced at the gun in his hand.

_Oh. Right._

“Derek, move,” he shouted, flicking the safety off. _Just like the range,_ he told himself, lining up the sights on Aiden’s neck. _Inhale, exhale, squeeze._

He glanced up long enough to see the handgun pointed down and took several unsteady steps back. Aiden lunged forward as Stiles pulled the trigger - the bullet just grazed him, not the kill shot Stiles had intended, but a second later the wound was inky black and Aiden was howling in pain.

Derek clawed at Aiden’s face, sending him sprawling to the forest floor. He didn’t move save for a few heaving, ragged breaths.

Somehow, Stiles made it out of the tree, but not without landing hard on his injured knee. “Son of a _bitch_ ,” he hissed, leaning hard against the tree. He glanced at Aiden. “Should I shoot him again, just to be sure?”

“If he can survive a wolfsbane bullet like that, he deserves to live.” Derek frowned at Stiles, looking vaguely offended. “Wolfsbane? Really?”

“They _work_ , don’t they,” Stiles said defensively, gesturing to Aiden. “And don’t think we’re magically friends again because we’re not dead right now, I still hate you.”

“Stiles,” Derek said irritably. “Can you resume hating me _after_ I get us out of here?”

Grudgingly, Stiles jammed the gun in his hoodie pocket as a gesture of goodwill and nodded. “My Jeep’s at the trailhead.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Think you’re okay to drive?”

“Dude it’s a sprained knee, not a concussion. Just get me back to my car. Is that healing yet?”

“It won’t heal right away, it’s from an alpha. Don’t worry about it.”

“Bullshit, I’m taking you to Scott’s. Mama McCall can work some of her nurse mojo and I can bum a sandwich, I’m _starving_.”

“You just shot an alpha, and you’re worried about food.”

“Shut up and drive, Wolf Man.”


End file.
